


Effigy

by porcelainepeony



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: Angst, Ficlet, M/M, Oneshot, SOLtis!Ai, ai suffers okay, aiballshipping, aiyusa, he’s a sad bean, inspired by a friend’s fanart, my version of “what if ai lived and yusaku died”, oh and ai kind of humps soltis!playmaker fff, soltis!playmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26703688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/porcelainepeony/pseuds/porcelainepeony
Summary: Just my angsty take on Ai’s life (read: misery) had he been the one to live in the end. Inspired by my friend Jean’s fanart (link inside! Y’all should go check out his fanart!!)Warning for uh... Ai getting a little too intimate with a not quite functional SOLtiS!Playmaker. Nothing explicit, but it’s heavily implied.
Relationships: Ai | Ignis/Fujiki Yuusaku
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Effigy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlizzardPrince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlizzardPrince/gifts).



**Rating:** M just in case. :’D Because Ai has unhealthy coping mechanisms  
**Words Count:** ~1580  
**Notes:** FIRST, I want to thank Jean for slaying me with his fanart and betaing this fic. Please go check out his work: https://twitter.com/yuaifusion/ Everything he creates is exquisite! The piece that inspired this particular ficlet is down below. 

Second, I’m inserting another warning here, just in case—Ai sort of gets off on a SOLtiS of Playmaker. He’s a SOLtiS too, though, so there’s nothing explicit. Mostly, Ai is lonely and sad. 

As always, thank you for reading/leaving kudos/commenting! 💖💖💖

xxx

Playmaker sits with a slight slouch to his back, eyes adrift, lips slightly parted. The room in which he exists is dark, except for the lit candles atop the tables on either side of him. It’s cold, even with the flickering flames, but Playmaker’s skin is colder, immune to the sharpness that would have otherwise prickled Yusaku’s nerves. 

“Playmaker-sama~!” Ai sings, striding into the room with an air in his voice and a bounce to his feet. His fox-like grin is wide, golden eyes glowing, almost vibrating with glee as he places a hand on Playmaker’s chest and circles around him. “I have something for you, Playmaker,” Ai draws out each syllable, languidly placing long fingers on Playmaker’s shoulders. 

Though Playmaker doesn’t answer, Ai leans in, giddy in the way he caresses the side of Playmaker’s face. “We’ll match,” Ai adds, shaking his head slightly, the dangle of his earrings the only sound that echoes in reply. 

They’re better than rings, Ai thinks. Cute, a little flashy, but totally fashionable. And, Ai muses with a soft laugh, they really will match. 

Moving his fingers from Playmaker’s shoulders, Ai leans closer. The smile Ai wears widens, eyes gleaming as Playmaker’s dull gaze catches the candlelight. The point of the first earring pierces Playmaker’s lobe easily. Without a flinch. Without a drip of blood. But as much is expected. A SOLtiS doesn’t bleed. The second earring follows suit, like a knife through softened butter. 

“You look great, Playmaker,” Ai croons, gaze traveling down the side of Playmaker’s face. Ai isn’t lying—Playmaker looks dashing in a fitted vest. The ascot and earrings are bonuses, nevermind the cape Ai plans to drape over Playmaker’s shoulders when he puts the finishing touches on his ensemble. 

Turning his head, Ai’s nose meets Playmaker’s hair. The scent registers as artificial. Mechanical. Nothing like Yusaku’s shampoo—nothing like the peppermint and lavender that stained Yusaku’s pillowcase even decades after humanity stole him from Ai. But acquiring that scent was an easy fix. Something Ai could work on later, after he reanimated Playmaker and heard his voice again. 

“They look good on you,” Ai resumes, circling to Yusaku’s front. Cupping Yusaku’s cheeks, Ai forces Playmaker’s gaze up and meets golden eyes to glassy green. 

The coolness of Playmaker’s skin frightens Ai. For a moment, the delicate reality— _fantasy_ —Ai created fragments, and Ai wants nothing more than to shake this version of Playmaker, to scream _WHY WON’T YOU LOOK AT ME?!_ , to toss his body in the pile with the other failures. Instead, he slides his hands down Playmaker’s neck and shoulders and digs his fingers into Playmaker’s arms, a desperate attempt to elicit a response besides the monotony of lost time. 

There is no response—there may never be. Ai grips harder, lips curled into the biggest frown his pseudo-muscles would allow. 

A deep breath in. A long exhale. Ai doesn’t require oxygen, but it reminds him of something tangible, of the fragility of humanity, of how Yusaku used his last breath to mutter a pathetic _I loved you_ before his eyes lost the light and peered up at Ai with vacancy. 

Ai refrains from tearing apart his partner. Just because Playmaker isn’t sentient doesn’t mean Ai’s failed. Not yet. He’s never come this far. He’s never replicated Playmaker so perfectly. He’s even as quiet as the original! As perfectly robotic. As perfectly void of emotion and beautiful in his suffering. 

“Playmaker,” Ai breathes, bottom lip quivering from the iciness of the room. “You truly are beautiful.”

Ai thinks he sees Playmaker’s lashes flutter, and he rejoices, the smile returning, though this time, his smile is twined with sadness. Longing. Regret.

“You _can_ see me--” 

Nothing. 

“--right, Playmaker?”

A whip of a candle’s flame. 

“Yusaku.”

Silence. 

Why wouldn’t he reply? Ai’s programs should have worked. After trial and error and error and error, after years and decades, after all the destruction and loneliness and silence, Ai knew one of the artificial Playmakers he created had to work. Had to look at him. See him. Had to feel warm to the touch. Had to suffer pain, feel happiness upon seeing his partner again. Ai knows he isn’t a god. He knows he will never bring Yusaku back to life. But he isn’t trying to fool himself like those idiots Kogami and Lightning. He’s merely trying to create the perfect android. The perfect Playmaker he remembers— _misses_. It shouldn’t have taken him so long. After all, Ai was born from Yusaku, so recreating Playmaker from Ai—from his memories and his data and the remnants of his fractured love—is a logical approach. Rational. Sensible. This Playmaker should have worked. He should have met Ai’s gaze, told him to stop moping, and smiled that small, crooked smile Ai had fallen in love with. 

“W-why didn’t you listen to me?” Ai asks. His face contorts into something hideous, the same face he wore when he ripped apart the ones responsible for Yusaku’s suffering. “You should have listened!” Had Yusaku trusted Ai, had he stopped being the hero for once, had he only given up on saving Ai, Ai wouldn’t have had to live missing the quippy remarks and the exasperated _be quiets._ Didn’t Yusaku know he didn't have to die? Didn’t he know Ai wanted to protect him too? Didn’t he know without him, Ai was nothing but the monster humanity expected him to be?

_Didn’t you know I loved you, too?_

Ai laughs out loud. No, Yusaku didn’t know. He bled out before Ai could swallow the tears and gather the words. Yusaku couldn't have known that Ai loved him. That he always wanted to kiss him. Always wanted to corrode beneath his touch. That was why he had modeled his new form in the shape of a human, wasn’t it? So he could lie beside Yusaku in bed, pull him against his chest, and save him from the nightmares that claimed him in the darkness. 

“I still love you,” Ai whispers. He squishes Playmaker’s cheeks. Smooths the pads of his thumbs against Playmaker’s skin. Gently touches his mouth to Playmaker’s. Sighs softly. 

Playmaker’s lips are soft. Cold but pliant, parting at Ai’s tongue’s command. A whimper trickles from within Ai, and he thinks Playmaker moves, pretends Playmaker is kissing him back with as much eagerness and vigor as Ai bestows upon his lips. 

“Yusaku,” comes the hushed whine. It’s followed by a sniffle, before Ai straddles Playmaker’s thighs and sits atop his lap. Ai wraps his arms around the lifeless doll, burying his face against the crook of Playmaker’s neck, looking more like a sobbing child than an overgrown centuries-old android. 

In Ai’s mind, Playmaker is warm. Oh so warm. And he's alive. Scowling like a grumpy old man. He would apprehensively lift his arms up and rest his hands against Ai’s sides in an attempt to both pry and secure Ai. Playmaker’s hands would feel good there, as if they belonged adhered to Ai, as if they belonged pressed only against Ai’s body. 

“Ai,” Playmaker would whisper, his breath hot against Ai’s neck. Ai doesn’t release him. No matter how much Playmaker would hate the clinging, Ai remains perched atop Playmaker, breathing in his scent, letting the sobs run their course down his body. 

“Yusaku,” Ai murmurs in a reply to the ghost, lips casually pressing against the soft skin beneath Playmaker’s ear. The earring dangles against Ai’s nose, but it doesn’t deter him, only makes him more aware of how he lurches forward, torso begging to melt into Playmaker’s. 

Playmaker would have protested. Not to the intimacy, but to how heavy the SOLtiS is, to how utterly immobile and helpless he’s become under Ai’s touch. 

A smile crosses Ai’s lips, arms pulling Playmaker closer, hips undulating like waves. Playmaker would have groaned deeply, would have melted against Ai, would have gripped Ai’s hips tightly and smashed their lips together. 

“Ai!” He would have moaned in a deliciously drawn-out, desperate plea. Ai continues to kiss and nip at Playmaker’s neck, continues to comb his fingers through his hair, continues to sway his hips back and forth in an effort to summon more of those moans. And it would have worked. Playmaker would have gasped, would have murmured, “Ai…”

“Ai…”

_“Ai!”_

“Yusaku!” Ai replies with a whine. The tears are dry against his cheeks, but in the safety of his mind, Playmaker continues to hold him. Cradles him. Runs his warm fingers through Ai’s hair and drops fervent kisses against his temple. Cheek. Jaw. A shudder travels down Ai’s spine, one he imagines would have wracked Playmaker’s body as he released and pulled Ai even closer. A sigh follows, soft and sad, before it turns into a pathetic chuckle. 

Ai finally lifts his gaze and looks at Playmaker. Stares into his eyes. Frowns at his reflection, at the polished emptiness sewn into once vibrant emerald eyes. 

The empty doll hits the wall and falls beside the others. Ai can’t bring himself to look at the sturdy hunk of metal. Instead, he embraces himself and holds back a scream. 

Minutes pass. Possibly hours. Ai lives in memories, where time doesn’t exist. It’s easier that way. Easier to cope. To love and hate and exist. After a time, Ai lets his arms drop to his sides. “The next one!” He exclaims, smiling to himself, bouncing toward the candles. With a big huff, Ai extinguishes the flames and settles on building the next SOLtiS Playmaker, for surely the next one would work.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Another](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27060142) by [Meimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meimi/pseuds/Meimi)




End file.
